Not the Type for a Stereotype
by written by shame
Summary: Hope is all they have; all they need is right circumstances. The Wolf making his way to the Star. Or the other way around?
It was almost a stereotype for them. James was discussing some new issue of Seeker Weekly with Sirius when he noticed Peter's innocent snore. He sighed and slightly jogged Peter's shoulder.

"Come on, your bed is far more comfortable for your delicate arse."

It was almost an hour before midnight and they were the latest in here. Them and noises from dying fire.

Peter stood up, stretched and grimaced them good night before switching for better cushions, with yawning James right behind him.

"-Ee you in -he mo-nin-," James managed to say without proper articulation.

Remus was sitting still as always, book in his hands. He wasn't even thinking about it. It was his way how to fight with this situation. He remembered well, when back then in their fourth year he had done it for the first time. He had leaned himself on the couch – the best place finally just for himself – and he had tried to act like he hadn't been aware of all of his motions while he had been just shivering of his own attention. He had chosen book – what else would have been acceptable – to keep him late. And he had furtively watched as his friends one by one had gone to sleep.

James and Peter always went first. And Remus always hoped for Sirius to stay. That was this all issue. He didn't let himself do anything else. Just hoped.

But after a while, Sirius rose from his seat and turned to face Remus, who was now deeply captured in his reading.

"You want me to stay, Moony?"

Remus knew. He was well aware what to say.

"I'm all right. Thanks," he smiled and let Sirius think, that he is such a nerd to prefer a book over his company. He smiled and hoped for Sirius to say something, do something.

He hoped almost as much as Sirius hoped he would say _yes_ to his question.

Alas, neither of them did.

However, it never was a stereotype. You don't know when it's coming or if it's already here. But Remus knew. He knew every single night when a watch-hand was about to meet with the midnight, that he had his moment for hoping. He felt this restlessness coming to his chest and he buried his face into the book even deeper.

Sirius asked because of his good nature, even when he was totally devastated he wanted to be there for him. But Remus never was the selfish one. And he never asked him to stay. And Sirius always went to the dorm without him.

Until that night.

It wasn't even after the full moon. He was as relaxed as he was able to be. He couldn't even use that as an excuse. Yet, when Sirius asked him as usually, he wasn't able to bring himself to reject. He just looked at him and said: "Yeah, okay…"

It was the expression of surprise on Sirius's face, what made Remus realize why he said what he said. Sirius wasn't himself. When he asked if he would be pleased by his company, his face-play was tense. And he had no reason for it. No family letters, no annoying girls, no detentions, no demanding homework… nothing at all. And Sirius was a chatty type. He was cheeky and chatty by day. Now he was quite the opposite.

"What's wrong?" he demanded and knit his eyebrows.

Sirius seemed to be amused, for a change. "You need to ask? That's officially the first time."

Remus shrugged. "I mean. What's the deal? You seem upset."

With a sigh, Sirius fell into the couch next to him. "You noticed, huh?"

"Sure..." Remus wasn't absolutely sure, though.

"I didn't want to talk about it," Sirius said; discomfort in his movements was clearly visible.

 _What is just happening?_ Remus thought.

"It's just Regulus. Nothing important, really."

"What did he do again?"

Sirius pushed himself deeper into the cushions. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course, it does. You matter."

Sirius's cocky grin was in its place. Not so joyful like the one he wore during a day, but still gorgeous.

"I was just trying to talk to him, you know, about unfinished business, about the past… I felt this urge that I need to tell him I still exist. And somehow we spent about ten minutes fighting about some bloody toys he used to play with when we were little."

Remus closed his book using his finger as a bookmark. "What about them?" he asked.

"He was complaining that I had stolen them. Well… I _had_ , that was apparently the problem, but the truth is, he'd been about five or something and he'd been playing with some really danger stuff. It wouldn't be appropriate even now, you know." Sirius wasn't using his hands in wide gestures as usual. He slid them under his thighs and leaned forward. He was talking too much and he didn't want to. Not about him anyway.

"You tried to protect him."

Sirius was silent for a moment. "Yeah, I did. And I failed."

"If you think that you had actually this power, to save him, then yes you failed, but I don't think so. That wasn't something someone would be able to do for him. It is not your fault."

Sirius smiled slightly. It was his fault, but he was mostly over it. He just couldn't help himself, when he realized what they were doing.

"We are cheating on our schedule, Remus," he complained.

Remus raised an eyebrow. "I don't know what you are talking about." His eyes melted with amusement.

"You don't, huh? ... Interesting."

Remus stood up, unsure why he was blushing. Sirius was right, though. They were breaking his rules. Remus broke them and the only way how to save his dignity was to bring up the New Order.

"I am going to bed if you don't want me to stay." His gaze was as innocent as he could manage.

It was Sirius's turn to be coy. But it was Sirius and he chose not to.

"Actually," he said, not coy but still sheepish. "I do."

"I don't want to talk about Regulus. And you shouldn't be either."

"Oh, I don't. Don't worry."

Remus sighed. "So why you want me to stay? You want to talk about something else?"

"Yes," Sirius said firmly and patted the still warm seat beside him.

Remus sat down and turned to face his best friend. "Okay, I am listening."

"I was just wondering how it happened, that you have been reading the same book for a week now." He pointed to Remus lap; Allen Ginsberg was laying there, upside down, nervous finger tucked between its pages.

Remus was confused. _What were they doing exactly?_

"Well, he is a poet, so… you can actually read it for really long time, many times. It's never the same."

"Fair enough, so would you be so kind and read me your favorite?"

"No, I would rather not," Remus said surprisingly firmly.

"Why?"

"It's actually quite obscene."

Sirius laughed. "Come on, Moony, not all of them could be that bad."

"Not all of them," Remus said and flushed. "But you were asking about my favorite."

"No-o… really? You have obscene poem among your favorites..? Now you definitely must read it to me."

"What about you would read it by yourself?"

"Nope, not buying that."

"You are unbelievable."

"So? How is it called?"

Remus opened his book on the very last page he had been reading. "It's called the _Song_."

"Okay, I am ready."

"Are you, Padfoot?"

"Sure."

" _The weight of the world  
is love_." Remus started but immediately stopped. Sirius put his head on his shoulder.

"Better?" Remus asked with a low unintended growl.

"Much, thank you for your care. Now, be so kind and continue."

" _Under the burden  
of solitude,  
under the burden  
of dissatisfaction_

 _the weight,  
the weight we carry  
is love._"

Sirius shifted again. His side cuddled beside Remus's. That was quite normal. They were touching now and then, but not in the empty Common room, when nobody was watching.

Remus swallowed and continued to read, unable to pretend that he wasn't associating his words with Sirius's touches.

 _"_ _The warm bodies  
shine together  
in the darkness,  
the hand moves  
to the center  
of the flesh,  
the skin trembles  
in happiness  
and the soul comes  
joyful to the eye—_

 _yes, yes,  
that's what  
I wanted,  
I always wanted,  
I always wanted,  
to return  
to the body  
where I was born." _

He read the part he assumed as obscene with cold impersonal voice and finished with a sigh of a relief. He survived.

"Is that so, Remus?" Sirius asked gently.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want to return to the body where you were born?"

 _Was Sirius really asking him that question?_

"Yes, of course, I want to."

Sirius held his hand. "I wouldn't want that, you know? I think you have a beautiful body."

Remus decided it would be easier if he wouldn't be reacting on that. He would simply ignore it, but it was his body that betrayed him.

His breath was sharper and faster. The same story was with his heart. All those movements were sending trembling through his whole system. Beautiful body? Bloody horrible body! It could be an oxymoron: Werewolf's beautiful body.

"You are an idiot."

"That is highly possible."

"I am damaged. I have never been anything close to beautiful."

"That is highly unlikely."

Remus smiled bitterly. "Right," he said, squeezed Sirius's palm and with a little hesitation he added: "For example now. I am as close to beautiful as I could ever reach."

Sirius shifted even closer. "Remus?"

"Yes?"

He was now whispering to his collarbone. "I have seen you shirtless. I have seen you naked completely. And it's very important for me to tell you, that… that for me you're perfect."

There was no way Remus could misinterpret it. He was trying, very hard must be said, but he was unsuccessful, though.

"What are you doing, Sirius?" he asked breathlessly.

"I am trying to declare you my fondness."

" _Fondness_?" _He must be insane._

"Yes. How am I doing so far?"

"…"

"Oh," Sirius let go Remus's hand and moved away from him suddenly embarrassed. "That's all right. I was quite expecting that… You've just seemed… never mind. Okay. _Now_ I am going to bed." Sirius stood up, but Remus's hand caught his sleeve and pulled him back.

"Just sit down, would you?"

 _Why must the battlefield be_ always _in his head?_

"I'm in love with you Remus. Sometimes I think I'm in love with you since I was born."

"Just sit here and shut up, okay? You asshole."

Remus had never insulted him before. Not even after he had told Snape his secret. He hadn't spoken to him, but he hadn't been insulting him either.

That was something new.

"You can't," Remus decided.

"I am sorry, but that is not something you can really change."

"No, really. I can't let you love me that way."

"Why the hell not?"

"You deserve better. You deserve so much better."

"Don't dare to tell me what or who I deserve. I ran away from that kind of people."

"I don't want you to get stuck with me."

"Too late for that. I don't want to fight with you. Why are we even doing this? You are pretty obvious about your decision and I have never wanted to push you."

"And you are pretty oblivious," Remus murmured, trying to erase Sirius's anger by putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. It was like magic.

Sirius leaned into that touch like a thirsty man.

Remus couldn't let him go. He placed his second hand on his cheek, smooth and warm against his palm, and Sirius' eyes widened.

"Remus," Sirius whispered, answering Remus' touches.

Remus had been lost long before he touched him. He had lost himself right in the moment when Sirius had pressed his lips to his collarbone while he had been declaring his fondness. He still felt them.

"You are an idiot."

"…"

"Why do you keep doing this to yourself? Picking up the worst fish in the ocean."

"You are not the fish, Moony. You are the fucking shark."

"You are an idiot."

"… Sorry, that was a bad one."

"So… are you going to kiss me, or-." He kissed him.

"Kiss you. Definitely, always kiss you."


End file.
